


Spoonful of Sugar

by MachineQueen



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Blue Lions Route, F/M, Post-Time Skip, Romantic Comedy, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:22:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25427605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MachineQueen/pseuds/MachineQueen
Summary: Flayn's crush on Ferdinand reaches epic proportions. If only she knew how romance was supposed to work these days...Absoloutely the sweetest, cutest, sugariest thing I have written in my life.
Relationships: Ferdinand von Aegir/Flayn
Comments: 12
Kudos: 67
Collections: FE3H Kink Meme





	Spoonful of Sugar

**Author's Note:**

> Original prompt here: https://3houseskinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/1608.html?thread=2052680#cmt2052680

The sound of a hundred marching boots began midmorning and continued into the afternoon. Flayn scanned the troops of knights returning to Garreg Mach, looking for a distinctive head of hair. Ingrid swooped in on her pegasus. Sylvain fronted the cavalry. Mercedes and Annette led the mage squadrons.

Where was he…?

“Flayn!” The voice was not the one she hoped for. She was pleased to hear it all the same. 

Seteth's travelling clothes were dusty. There was a blood stain on his sleeve. Flayn picked up his arm, checking for wounds. She found none. The blood didn’t belong to him, thank the Goddess.

“Are you well, brother? You were not hurt at all?”

“I was fortunate - the enemy had poor aerial defenses. The cavalry battalions took the brunt of the attacking forces. I am glad the professor asked you to stay at the monastery on this occasion.”

“The cavalry?” Flayn tensed. “I have seen Sylvain. Where is- where is Ferdinand?”

Seteth frowned. He had no love of Ferdinand. Flayn could not say whether it was because of their shared crest or because Ferdinand hailed - and then defected - from the Empire. Either way, her father’s obvious dislike did nothing to dampen her lovestruck feelings. If anything, it enhanced them. Oh, the giddiness of love!

“Perhaps Ferdinand was delayed by injury. Did you have business of some sort with him?”

 _Yes, yes, yes!_ _I have resolved to make him fall in love with me, what business is more urgent than that?_

Ever since Ferdinand’s unexpected embrace in the armory, Flayn had been distracted. But she knew better than to relay her heart’s urgent chattering to her father. He wouldn't hesitate to lock her up in a lonely tower where no amount of singing or calling would help her. She scrambled for an appropriate half truth. 

“Ferdinand has been teaching me armour maintenance.”

Seteth let out a splutter of disbelief. “Armour maintenance? Since when have you been interested in such a thing?”

Flayn coloured. But pressed on. “The way Ferdinand speaks of it is quite fascinating. Did you know some types of armour are perilous even when not being worn?”

“Certainly sounds like something the Empire would come up with. I suppose I should be glad you are taking an interest in an educational subject. Do the other soldiers enjoy these seminars?”

"I am sure they do."

Not a lie, technically. It was only that her father was so terribly sensitive about her being alone with the opposite gender. It would be for the best if he didn’t know.

The stables - she should have known - finally gave her results. There was mud on Ferdinand’s cloak and in his hair. He stood awkwardly, with all his weight on one leg. But his dishevelment made no difference whatsoever to the cadence of Flayn’s heart, which felt like it was trying to beat its way out of her chest. Yet another miraculous thing about love!

“Good afternoon, Ferdinand,” she said. He jumped, having been lost in grooming his horse. He stumbled on his bad leg and caught himself on the horse’s flank, face contorted in pain. 

“Good afternoon, Flayn. Can I assist you with something?”

His smile was a little strained at the corners. Help! She couldn’t just say ‘I am here to make you fall in love with me.’ Who knew love would require so much falsity? Would her tongue end up black from lies, like in Seteth's stories?

Her eyes flicked back to his leg. 

“You are injured.”

Ferdinand shook his head. "I am not in pain. I thought I would leave the healers to care for those in more dire need before going to the infirmary.”

“I am sure I could treat you here, if you wish.”

Flayn suddenly felt hot. She had healed Ferdinand, before hadn’t she? Yes, a few months ago. He'd taken an arrow to the shoulder. The pain should have left him crying, but he'd been perfectly, consciously placid. A stillness among the writhing throng of patients and healers. Back then, she had not felt how tightly Ferdinand could hold her, not experienced the depth of his concern or got lost in his eyes. His missing shirt had not flustered her one bit. And now, now she was quaking at the thought of bare calf! 

Ferdinand gave his horse a final brush. Then he sat on a hay bale, while Flayn hovered anxiously above him. He removed the boot and greave from the affected leg and rolled up the trouser leg beneath with much wincing. Flayn tried to keep her head straight. Do not think of how Ferdinand looks vulnerable at this current moment. Think only of healing. Sometimes patients fell in love with their nurses. It was the best tactic she could think of at present.

The leg did look poor. It was swollen and bruised, likely from impact with the ground. Ferdinand must have fallen from his mount. Flayn’s hands curled into fists as she thought of it. There was nothing she hated more than war, such a foolish, petty waste of life.

“Flayn? You look like you might faint! Is it bad?”

“It is a wonder you were even standing upright! You should have had this injury seen to at once.” She prodded at the tender flesh and he yelped, high and throaty. What was she doing? She knew better than to touch such an injury. If only she could shake the feathers from her brain!

“Sorry, I did not mean-! I will heal you.”

At least the heal spell was simple. She had done it thousands of times. All she had to do was call on her faith, the well of magic she knew was available to her. But when she closed her eyes and reached, the magic would not come! Why did it not respond? She muttered a quick prayer and still, nothing! Her distraction must be worse than she thought.

“Perhaps you are too tired, Flayn. I am sure you have done plenty of healing today. I will go to the infirmary.”

Ferdinand meant to be kind but Flayn could not bear it. The despair she felt at not being able to grant him one simple favour was overwhelming. When Ferdinand moved to replace his clothing, Flayn grasped his elbow. “No! I must see this done!”

Ferdinand blinked. “But Flayn-”

“Remain where you are!” Ferdinand looked startled but did as she said. Flayn closed her eyes so she did not have to see his alarmed gaze.

It took her another minute or two, but finally the magic came. She lay her hands on the wound and felt the ruined flesh smooth itself back together. It would not scar. Ferdinand’s relieved sigh was sweet, sweet music to her carefully hidden ears. She watched him stretch the leg out, swinging it experimentally. 

“You have nice knees."

“Er? I am pleased you like them?"

Flayn swallowed hard. She'd wanted an original compliment, but why had she said _knees_? She should have just said hair! Or eyes! Or smile! That was how other people flirted, right? How did they make themselves suave and mysterious and funny? Flayn could only manage hopeless. All of this seemed much easier when she was reading about it in books. 

“You seem out of sorts,” Ferdinand told her, gentle as could be. “I really do think you should get some rest.”

Blaming fatigue felt like a reasonable excuse for the clumsiness of the encounter. She would take it. “I expect you are right. I must have been more worried about y- um, everyone, than I thought.”

Flayn retreated, face scarlet and heart pounding in her ears.

***

Flayn’s efforts in the stables had only served embarrassment and awkwardness. If she were Ferdinand, she would not fall for some knee-mad maiden who could not properly cast a simple heal!

She was so caught in her thoughts she bumped into something solid and human shaped. “Ow! Watch where you’re going!” said the shape.

“Oh! I do apologise!”

Dorothea brushed herself off. She managed to look glamorous even coated in dust and grime. An image flickered forth in Flayn's mind. Dorothea and Ferdinand. They'd come from the Empire together. 

"Lost in thought, hmm? New boyfriend?" 

"Not yet." By the time Flayn realised the words were out of her mouth, it was already too late. Dorothea’s eyes gleamed. She looked like a dog who’d caught the scent of its prey. 

"Not _yet?_ So you've got your eye on someone, then? Anyone I know?" 

“Well...I fail to see how it is any business of yours. Besides, I have to make him fall in love with me first.” 

Dorothea quirked an eyebrow. “And how were you planning on doing that?” She looked as if she might burst out laughing. 

“Did I say something amusing?”

“You just sound so blunt. Like you're going to cast a spell or slip a love potion into some tea.”

“Of course not! I am going to…” Flayn stumbled over herself. What was her plan? So far she’d only become overly flustered and stammered like a child. Maybe Dorothea could explain some of the Empire’s romantic customs?

“Perhaps you might advise me on what I should do? Boys do seem awfully fond of you.”

“That’s going to be difficult if I don’t know who it is. Sure you don’t want to tell me?”

“Absolutely not!”

“At least give me something to go off! Older or younger?”

“Younger! No, wait. Older. Definitely older.”

“And what rank are they?”

“Quite important. But what does this have to do with-”

“Hmm. This is a puzzle. Who could it be?”

“I will admit I do not know much about modern courtship...but nothing else!”

“Right. General pointers. The key to seduction is to remember it’s ultimately not about you. It’s about the other person. You have to make this man feel like the cleverest, handsomest, most important person in the world.”

Flayn blinked. She’d expected something along the lines of hitching up her skirt or doing her hair a certain way. “Gosh! I cannot imagine where to begin with something like that!”

“A cup of tea works wonders. You get intimate conversation and the opportunity to look dainty with a teapot. Trust me, as an opener you won’t find much better.”

Ferdinand liked tea. It would be a start, at least.

***

Flayn wished she’d picked a shadier spot in the gardens. The heat made her hair droop. Meanwhile, Ferdinand’s curled and shone in the sunlight. The urge to touch was difficult to resist. 

Flayn’s own favourite teas seemed too sweet and childish so she’d stolen some of her father’s in the hope of sophistication. She’d never brewed it before but tea was tea - surely it wasn’t difficult? (Seteth always fussed about her burning herself).

Her hands shook around the teapot. She took a deep breath to re-centre herself. Ferdinand watched curiously. He had shed his jacket. The waistcoat underneath looked very appealing. What would it feel like if she ran her hands over it? Velvety, perhaps?

“Which tea have you selected for us, Flayn? Is it one you like?”

It took her a moment to process the question. “It is one I thought _you_ might like. Angelica tea.”

She adjusted her grip on the pot and poured. The first cup was perfect. It smelt divine and steam rose nicely off the surface. Flayn moved onto the second and then made a fatal mistake. She looked up. To where Ferdinand smiled at her, like she was his favourite person in the world. If she leaned a few inches, she’d be within kissing distance. 

“Flayn!”

Ferdinand jumped from his seat and she jumped too, slopping tea over the table. She stared down at the overflowing cup with horror. Had she really just...forgotten she was pouring hot liquid?

Ferdinand was already grabbing napkins from the tea tray. He mopped at the table, expertly cleaning the spill while she stood frozen in utter mortification.

“Did you hurt yourself? Flayn?”

“No! But I have ruined your clothes.”

Ferdinand plucked the bottom of his waistcoat. There was a prominent tea splash. He gave it an ineffectual dab with a napkin, making it look ten times worse. 

“Not to worry. It is only clothing.”

He looked forlorn all the same. Flayn's guilt spiked painfully. 

“I am so terribly sorry! I do not know what came over me.”

“Accidents happen. Shall we try the tea?”

The situation could still be salvaged, if the tea tasted as good as it smelled. Flayn took a large sip from her overfilled cup. Then coughed. It was remarkably foul! There was no way she could drink it. “It is horrible.” 

Ferdinand sipped, a thoughtful look on his face. “Rather bitter, yes. I think you steeped it too long.”

“You do not have to drink it.”

“You would do well to remember that tea is a delicate substance! A stronger flavour is not necessarily better. It isn’t _undrinkable_ , however.”

“Perhaps if we add cream and sugar?”

Ferdinand stared at her as if she’d suggested he run round Garreg Mach naked. “Flayn, that sounds perfectly terrible. Even thinking of it makes me queasy. This is a _herbal_ tea.”

“Whatever it is, I do not think I will be able to drink it…”

Ferdinand surveyed the tea trolley. “Aha! This should help.”

There was a pot of honey. He added a spoon to her cup and looked at her expectantly. She took another sip and shook her head. Ferdinand probably should have rolled his eyes and given up, but he merely added another spoon of honey. He kept adding spoons until she finally found the terrible tea at least palatable.

They sipped in silence for a few awkward moments. Flayn was too jittery to attempt conversation. Her carefully considered list of topics had disappeared to the recesses of her uncooperative mind. She kept replaying the tea spill over and over again. 

“This should interest you. This morning, I saw the professor catch an unusual fish from the pond.” 

Ferdinand’s smile was measured. He had thrown Flayn a conversational life line and he knew it. She could grab on. Or she could keep cringing into her teacup. 

“...Did it look very delicious?”

“Yes, it looked splendid. I heard in some places people like to eat fish with fried potatoes. Have you ever tried it?”

They talked about different ways to cook and eat fish until the monastery clock struck the next hour. “Flayn. I am sorry. I must go, I have duties to attend to.”

“But all we discussed was fish. I got carried away… ”

“I do not mind talking about whatever makes you happy. You seemed upset earlier. Now you are smiling again.”

Before Flayn knew what she was doing, she rose and folded her arms around Ferdinand’s shoulders. Ferdinand took a sharp breath of surprise. For a moment, he held completely still. Flayn tensed - clinging to a statue was not pleasant. But then he put his arms around her too. She liked the way he felt, solid and strong and so very warm. A strand of hair tickled her cheek. 

After a short moment, Ferdinand drew away and tentatively touched her shoulder. 

"I really must go. I will see you soon, Flayn."

***

The happiness didn’t last. As soon as she packed up the tea, Flayn descended into panic. She didn’t know there were so many ways to ruin a tea break. Maybe Flayn was not cut out to be anyone’s spouse if she could not even do something as simple as pour tea...and then...and then she spent _thirty minutes_ talking about fish…! Fish were her favourite thing in the world but not exactly romantic creatures! 

The hug was nice but probably only meant in a big brotherly way. Flayn didn't need another brother/father. She wanted a partner. But she would never win Ferdinand like this. She was useless at love! Why did all the books and poems make it seem so wonderful? With every kindness Ferdinand paid her, she only made more of a fool of herself. 

Flayn was not usually ill-tempered but for once she had no patience for Sylvain’s flirting or Felix’s grouching or her father’s questioning. Even the professor stopped and asked if there was anything she could do to improve Flayn’s foul mood. 

Flayn decided she might as well be miserable on her own. She languished in her room, reading her saddest poetry book. There were lots of storms and witches and old spinsters. 

Someone knocked on her bedroom door. Flayn rose from the bed and opened it a crack. Dorothea, all lipstick and perfect teeth. She’d probably never read a sad poem in her life.

“I do not wish to speak with anyone.”

“Don’t be like that, sweetie. What’s got you so upset? It’s that boy, isn’t it? What did he do to you, hmm?”

“It is not what he did to me. It is what I did to him.”

She could not keep Dorothea out after that. The other woman all but elbowed her way through the door. Flayn huffed but did little to stop it. Her room looked plain and childish with Dorothea inside but there wasn't much she could do about it. Dorothea held a tuck box, the kind soldiers sometimes took with them in the field.

“Let’s have a munch together and you can tell me everything. Properly, this time.”

“I said I do not want to talk about it.”

“Come on, sweetie. You have to talk with someone. Else you’ll be miserable for days. I’ve seen and heard it all a thousand times.”

Dorothea popped the lid off the box and offered it to Flayn. A half dozen precisely round cookies rested inside. They were an inviting golden colour and smelt like cinnamon and sugar. Despite everything, Flayn's stomach growled. 

“I did not know you could bake, Dorothea.”

“I can’t! These are from Ferdie. He wrote you a note.” She passed Flayn an elaborate looking envelope. “He seems fond of you.”

“Really?” Flayn could not hide her breathless eagerness. 

“Wait a minute,” Dorothea grinned with a touch of wickedness. “Your face completely changed. Is your crush on the ever-so-noble Ferdinand von Aegir?”

“You have figured me out,” mumbled Flayn. “Well done to you.”

Dorothea let out a most uncharitable cackle. “I supposed his old-fashioned chivalrous shtick had to work on someone.”

“Ferdinand is not old-fashioned! He is kind and good and I feel safe when he is near. If that is old-fashioned, then I do not think I care for these new fashions."

“So what’s the problem, then? Did Ferdie say something careless?”

“ _I_ am the problem! I become so flustered in his presence the smallest of tasks moves beyond my reach. Disaster befalls me before I can even think about the art of seduction. It is hopeless.”

Flayn described their terrible tea break in minute detail. Dorothea listened attentively. Her mouth kept twitching like she wanted to smile but she managed to keep a straight face.

“If we’re talking about Ferdie, forget everything I said. You can hint and flirt and play games all you like, he won’t get it. If you want to know his feelings, you’ll have to tell him straight.”

“Just tell him? Will he not think me truly mad, if I walk up to him and say ‘I love you’?”

“Explain how your feelings began and how they grew to what they are now.”

“I scarcely know myself, it happened so fast. But I will try.”

"You do know Ferdie's only noble in name, right? Edie truly took everything from him when we defected."

"Why should I care about such a thing?"

"It's easy to say that now but in the future… well…never mind…" Dorothea looked troubled. "How will Seteth feel about Ferdinand?" 

"He will disapprove. But I do not care!" 

"Spoken like a true romantic heroine! So, are you all better now? Should I leave you to read your note?”

“Yes please! Thank you, Dorothea.”

Dorothea patted Flayn’s arm. She was very kind, even if her questioning had been a little zealous for Flayn’s liking.

The note was neatly folded and sealed. Certainly over the top for something unofficial, but Flayn appreciated the effort. 

_Dear Flayn,_

_I heard you were not feeling well, so I made these cookies for Dorothea to give to you. I have missed seeing your smile these past days and hope you feel better soon._

_Your friend, Ferdinand._

Flayn read the four lines of the letter over and over. She was surprised her gaze didn’t wear the ink off the page. There didn’t seem room for alternative interpretations. She kept coming back to _I have missed seeing your smile_. And then _your friend._

It was no good. This was torture. There was only one thing to do. 

***

Following Ferdinand's trail round the monastery was exhausting. He'd been working in the stables and then to a strategy meeting and then to organise supplies in the armory. 

Eventually she hunted him to the library. A splotch of orange in the corner alerted her to his presence. Ferdinand slumped in his chair, sound asleep with an open book in his lap. 

Flayn couldn’t help herself this time. She reached out and rested a hand on Ferdinand’s head. His hair was clean and silky, perhaps from a recent brushing. He looked so handsome asleep, long lashes against his cheeks, like something from a children’s tale. Her affections for him deepened, a feat that should not have been possible. She became more daring and pet his hair, heart beating hard. It had been years since she'd wanted to win someone so desperately. 

_You will lose him,_ her mind warned her. She thought of Ferdinand white and weary while she remained frozen. A sobering image. She ignored it. For now, Ferdinand was young and handsome and she wanted him very much. Ferdinand had his own hopes, dreams, fears...and she wanted to know them all.

After her moment of contemplation, she noticed Ferdinand’s eyes were open, watching. She drew back at once, cheeks aflame. “Ah! Ferdinand! I must apologise!”

“No need for apologies. It is I that fell asleep in a public place. Were you curious about my hair?”

“I admit I was. It seems my curiosity keeps getting the better of me when I am around you. Why did you grow it so long?”

“I did not have time to think of it. There was no special reason. Does it not suit me?”

“It does! Very much!” She blushed and promptly changed the subject. “May I escort you to your room?”

“It would not do if I fell asleep on the way. Thank you, Flayn.”

They walked in step with one another. Flayn ached to hold his hand. “It seems you rarely rest. It is dangerous to sleep where anyone might find you.”

“You need not worry. I do not usually fall asleep. I am not like...”

He trailed off. Flayn mentally finished the sentence. _Like Linhardt_. The scholar had stayed in the Empire. She wondered if Ferdinand missed his old friends.

“I expect you have a great many people telling you the same and do not need another. Such sentiments can be cloying and make one feel trapped, however well meant they are.”

"Do not mistake me. I am pleased you are concerned, but there really is no need."

Flayn took a deep breath and gathered every facet of courage she could find. 

"Perhaps you might embrace me once more, so I can feel you are at full strength? It would surely put my mind at ease." 

Ferdinand did not even question it. Flayn closed her eyes as he held her. He smelt like armour oil, tea and horses. It made her feel safe, to press her ear to his chest and listen to the beat of his heart. 

“Are you well, Flayn? Is there something troubling you?”

Flayn sighed into his chest. She thought to blurt everything out then and there, with his arms around her. But he looked so tired she just couldn’t do it. When she confessed, she wanted him awake. It was only fair to both of them. “Nothing I can think of. I am fine.”

“Would you like another tea break tomorrow? I will show you how it’s supposed to be done!”

***

True to Ferdinand’s word, tea was organised to perfection. Flayn sat down to a platter of tuna sandwiches, a circle of scones and two slices of freshly iced cake. 

“Where did you find all this? We are rationing, are we not?”

“I was able to sweet talk the cook into giving me a few extras, just this once.”

Ferdinand poured the tea at 3:30pm precisely. He did not spill a single drop. “I selected the apple blend. I think you will find it satisfies your sweet tooth.”

“Oh! That happens to be one of my favourites!”

Flayn took a relaxing sip. It was much easier to sit back and enjoy herself when she wasn’t responsible for the nourishments. Her clumsy hands were best kept away from large pots of water. “Last time we spoke of my favourite subject. What would you like to talk about this time?”

“I would like to discuss…” Ferdinand hesitated. It was the first time Flayn could ever recall him doing so. He started again. “I cannot help but notice you act oddly when I am around. You were not shy when we first met. Did I do something...wrong?”

Dorothea’s words came back to her: _If you want to know his feelings, you’ll have to tell him straight._

Flayn gathered all of her courage. 

“The truth is…I found myself thinking of you, often. When you embrace me, I feel safe and beloved. I wanted...I wanted to make you fall in love with me.”

Now the words were out in the open, she couldn’t take them back. They felt as if they should have solid form, flutter in the air like butterflies. A flicker of surprise moved across Ferdinand’s face. 

“Oh, Flayn...”

“If you must refuse me, please do it quickly! I would rather hear it straight than be sung a merry song all the way to rejection.”

“Please just consider...We are at war. I do not want to leave you with an unhappy ending.”

“Yes, we are at war. Does that not make it more important to allow ourselves a little happiness?”

Ferdinand looked down at the table. Then back to her, eyes very bright.

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

“I have been enamoured with you too, Flayn. I care about you very much.”

“Then, if you accept my feelings, may I make a request? Could you please kiss me?”

For once, Ferdinand was the one blushing, across his cheeks and to the very tips of his ears. He pulled his chair round next to her, jerky and tense, so he would not have to lean across the table. Their first kiss was chaste and shy and so gentle Flayn could barely feel it. Ferdinand’s hand cupped her cheek. His other brushed beneath her hair, against one ear…

Flayn froze. So did Ferdinand.

“Your ears…”

“They have a peculiar shape, yes. Do you mind?”

He tucked her hair back so he could see properly. Flayn looked for disgust or fear but she saw only sincere curiosity. He wasn’t afraid to touch, to feel their pointed tips.

“...I like them.”

“Oh!” She felt overcome to the point of tears and went to kiss him again. Kissing him was wonderful and she did not know how she was to find patience for anything but kissing from this moment forwards. 

“Flayn...are you...like Lady Rhea?”

“Yes...and no. I can't change shape. Please do not tell the others.”

Ferdinand pulled her hair back into place. “It is not my secret to share.” Flayn felt like she was going to burst into stars from joy. Was this really happening? Ferdinand looking at her - her! - with tender affection! She moved in to kiss him again.

Unfortunately, the moment did not last. 

A beat of wings was all the notice they had. “Ferdinand von Aegir!” Seteth’s face was purple. _Purple_. “I will have your head!”

Flayn had forgotten their tea time spot was well within view of the wyvern patrol route. 

Ferdinand, no doubt acting on a soldier’s instincts, jumped and grabbed the first thing he could to protect himself. Seteth’s wyvern tilted its head, admiring the shine of the brandished tea tray with a confused chirrup. Flayn placed herself in front of Ferdinand. She’d always known falling in love would mean fighting her father and she’d had many years to prepare herself for it.

“Brother. _I_ kissed _him_! You cannot keep us apart. I will not allow it. I have the right to determine who I wish to court and I have chosen Ferdinand. Will you not see reason?”

“Flayn...”

“Come down from there at once and speak with me like an adult! I am no longer a child and I will not have you treat me as such for a moment longer!”

***

Seteth and Flayn argued and stormed and negotiated. Seteth pressed a scrawled list of rules into Ferdinand’s startled face along with a threat to feed him to Edelgard’s crest beasts if he so much as broke one of Flayn’s fingernails.

He didn’t lock Flayn up in a tower. So that was something. 

Ferdinand took Seteth’s disapproval as a challenge and made it his life’s mission to win him round. He tried all manner of things - buying Seteth’s favourite tea, cleaning his office, running about the monastery with reports day and night… 

Seteth only called him ‘Aegir’ in increasingly threatening tones. Flayn ignored it. Her father could grump and groan all he wanted, they were together and there was nothing he could do about it. 

Most days, Flayn made garlands to weave into Ferdinand’s hair. St Cethleann’s love garlands were a quaint tradition but Flayn wanted it to continue. It looked a little absurd when Ferdinand wore them round the monastery but he did not seem to mind. The horses minded even less and took every opportunity to snack on the flowers when he wasn’t paying attention.

Even Seteth softened when Ferdinand bestowed a garland to his curious wyvern. It was soon shaken off and eaten but Ferdinand only laughed. When her father smiled too, Flayn knew she'd won. 

“Who do you think St Cethleann made her garlands for?” Ferdinand asked as Flayn completed the final flower twine of her current work in progress. It was odd to hear her old name from his lips but she didn’t dislike it. 

“I think she had someone she loved. Someone like you.”

He smiled at her and Flayn squeezed his hand. One day, when they were truly safe again, she would ask him to use her real name. 

**Author's Note:**

> Somewhere in the background Dimitri is growling "Stop playing in the flowers when there's a war on!"
> 
> @MachineQueen4 on Twitter if you want to say hi


End file.
